


truth is a beautiful thing

by Mikleohno



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Bad Poetry, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Snarkleo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikleohno/pseuds/Mikleohno
Summary: Sorey and Mikleo share rooftop poetry together.





	truth is a beautiful thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pastelgabby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelgabby/gifts).



_Hold your heart, hold your hand_  
_Would be to me, the greatest thing_  
_To hold your heart, to hold your hand_  
_Would be to me, the bravest thing_  
  
_[London Grammar - Truth Is a Beautiful Thing ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPcPtd3k-Qg)_  


  
  
  


“Couldn’t sleep?”

Sorey turned his seated body to acknowledge the source of the voice, already recognizing who it belonged to. Mikleo had likely snuck over to Sorey’s home for late night reading and upon not finding him indoors, had begun to search outside. Mikleo silently ascended the trellis to the rooftop of Sorey’s home, speaking volumes to his graceful nature.

Sorey smiled warmly at his friend. “Yeah. It’s really clear tonight, perfect for stargazing.”

Mikleo hummed in agreement, and seated himself to Sorey’s right side. Mikleo’s company was always welcome, his polite mannerisms and gentle presence soothing to Sorey.

“Is that all you’re doing out here?” asked Mikleo, nudging Sorey with his elbow and prodding him with his narrowed, violet eyes. Sorey looked down at the closed journal in his lap.

“I guess I was feeling a little... inspired?” said Sorey with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head.

Mikleo snorted. “Poetry again?”

Sorey nodded in response. “Yeah. Maybe if I keep practicing, I’ll be good at it one day.”

Mikleo hummed again. “You write anything worth sharing?”

Sorey clutched the journal tightly. “Not if you’re going to make fun of me for it.”

“I won’t make fun of it if it’s any good.”

“And who’ll be the judge of that?” asked Sorey.

Mikleo narrowed his eyes at Sorey. “From what I read last time, you’re nowhere near qualified.”

Sorey grinned. “Maybe I’ve improved. Only one way to find out.” He flipped the journal open to a page, offering it gingerly to Mikleo. Mikleo’s pale fingertips brushed against Sorey’s momentarily as the journal exchanged hands. He brought the journal closer to his face, beginning to read the words etched into the page.

  


_If you look up in the night,  
_ _you will smile in delight;_

_Stretching over land and sea,  
_ _stars as far as you can see._

_They make the evening sky aglow  
_ _in twilight when they start to show._

_Many stars shine in the sky,  
_ _but none twinkle like your eye._

  


“Well? What do you think?” asked Sorey.

Mikleo pursed his lips, trying to keep them from curling, and failed. A wide grin spread across his face.

“Which eye?” chortled Mikleo, “The left or the right?”

Sorey wrinkled his nose and shoved his fist into Mikleo’s shoulder. Mikleo swatted Sorey’s fist away with his available hand.

“I thought you weren’t going to make fun of me.”

“I told you I wouldn’t if it was any good.”

“Fine, fine, maybe it needs some work. Try the next page.”

Mikleo cocked an eyebrow and followed Sorey’s instruction, his fingertip dragging upward along the journal page before catching and turning it. Sorey watched his every move, trying to count how many times Mikleo’s eyes moved from left to right with each completed sentence. Sorey rapidly bounced his foot, anxious for a response.

  


_The sunset swirls with violet, blue  
_ _aquamarine, gold, purple too._

_The moon raised in the twilight sky  
_ _against a backdrop up so high._

_Whether it’s waning, new or full  
_ _I’m like the tide, I feel it’s pull._

_It’s beauty, ethereal and grace,  
_ _enough to make my own heart race._

  


Mikleo looked down at the page, then back up again at Sorey.

“I’ll be honest, Sorey. This one is markedly better.”

Sorey nodded excitedly, eyebrows raised, waiting for Mikleo to continue.

“But I’d still try to find another hobby.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Sorey, jabbing his thumb into Mikleo’s side. Mikleo let out a surprised laugh and responded by poking his own fingers into Sorey’s waist. Sorey retaliated with more pokes and jabs, earning muffled laughter and eventual shushing from Mikleo, a reminder to stay quiet and avoid waking up the rest of the villagers in Elysia. They could do without another tongue lashing from Gramps.

“Fine, fine,” conceded Sorey. “But let’s see you do any better.”

Mikleo quirked an eyebrow, studying Sorey to determine if there was merit behind his challenge. The unspoken rivalry between them burned, a competition that knew no bounds.

“I may have been working on something in my spare time,” Mikleo mumbled.

Sorey watched attentively as Mikleo sat straighter, unzipping the top part his coat enough to allow his hand entrance. He reached inside, searching a secret pocket over the left side of his chest. He pulled his hand out, revealing a small folded piece of paper tucked safely between his fingers. He unfolded the page, reviewing the writing on the tattered sheet before gingerly offering it to Sorey. Sorey accepted the page in disbelief, and began to read.

Mikleo watched as Sorey read each word, his mouth unintentionally forming syllables and formants. His heart raced as Sorey’s eyes traced the letters of his handwriting.

  


_He rises in the morning,_  
_shines brightly overhead;_  
_his magnetic energy  
_ _that pulls me from my bed._

_He is the everlasting sun,_  
_his warmth keeps me alive;_  
_The fiery center of my world,  
_ _Because of him I strive._

_He pushes me to do more, be more_  
_strained under his heat_  
_I train and sweat, I can’t give up,  
_ _I won’t accept defeat._

_And when the skies are overcast,_  
_grow cold when we're apart;_  
_I long for sunlight on my skin  
_ _to thaw and melt my heart._

_And in the night time, when he rests,_  
_the darkness realized,_  
_I spend my evening dreaming  
_ _of his warmth until sunrise._

_Come morning, shining, yet again_  
_to spend with him my days;_  
_To taste his sweetness on my skin,  
_ _wrapped in the sunshine’s rays._

  


“Do you really feel this way about the sun?” asked Sorey, folding the paper along the existing creases, offering it back to Mikleo.

Mikleo hummed, thankful his blushing face would be obscured by the dim moonlight.

“Do you really feel that way about the evening sky?” responded Mikleo, as he tucked the paper back in his secret breast pocket. He zipped his high necked coat back up to his jaw.

Sorey laid back against the rooftop. “Just look at it. There’s so much to appreciate. It’s really... something.”

Mikleo followed his friend’s action, stretching his legs forward and laying on his back. He watched the sky, each twinkling dot with a story of its own, reaching them as nothing more than tiny pinpoints of light. The greatness of it was truly humbling. He breathed slowly, taking in the view of the clear Elysian sky, unobscured and filled with stars.

“I suppose so,” said Mikleo quietly.

They laid in silence beside each other. Sorey’s fingers crept over Mikleo’s left hand, timid with soft prods of his fingertips at first, then gaining in boldness. He traced calloused figure eights along Mikleo’s porcelain knuckles, each sway and turn of his fingertips deliberate. Mikleo’s chest tightened, his heartbeat audible in his throat. He turned his hand enough to allow Sorey to wrap his fingers around his own, entwining them together, forming one loosely joined fist. Sorey’s thumb continued to move, tracing Mikleo’s palm to his wrist, back and forth. Mikleo relaxed to the touch, his breathing steadying, the intensity of his heartbeat betraying his calm outward appearance.

“I love it here in Elysia,” started Sorey. “But I have to see what’s out there. One day, I’m going to go.”

Mikleo squeezed Sorey’s hand in response.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you with me, if you’ll come,” said Sorey.

“You had better,” said Mikleo. “You’d be lost without me.”

Sorey inhaled deeply, turning to face Mikleo. “I wouldn’t want to experience the world with anyone else.”

Mikleo turned to meet Sorey’s vibrant emerald eyes, somehow just as bright and luminous in the dim moonlight as they were in the daytime. It was almost too intense, Mikleo feeling his breath catch in his throat before finally turning away to face the sky again.

“I’d love to see the leaning towers. Or the petrified colossus,” said Mikleo softly.

“The fire-spewing mountains, the land of ice... I want to see it all. With you.”

Mikleo squeezed Sorey’s hand. “Gramps said you might want to return to the world of the humans one day.”

There would always be an unspoken wedge driven between them, the truth holding them eternally separate: Sorey was human, and Mikleo was not.

Sorey shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t even know any humans. I want to be an explorer.”

“Me too,” said Mikleo.

“Yeah?” asked Sorey.

“Yeah.”

Mikleo hummed in acknowledgement, squeezing Sorey’s hand again. Sorey squeezed in response, his thumb continuing to trace Mikleo’s delicate, thin wrist.

“We should go to bed. You should be up early for the hunt.”

Sorey wrinkled his nose, sitting up and untangling his fingers from Mikleo’s hand.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, standing carefully on the thatched roof.

“I always am,” mumbled Mikleo.

“I heard that,” said Sorey, making his way down the vined trellis. His small home shook with each weighted step. Sorey reached the ground with a small thud.

“Forgetting something?” asked Mikleo, holding the journal out for Sorey to see. Sorey held out his hands. Mikleo gently tossed the journal down, Sorey catching it with ease. Mikleo smirked before turning and stepping down the trellis, his gracefully silent footsteps catching each step effortlessly. When he reached the ground Sorey smiled at him, his watchful eyes never leaving Mikleo.

Sorey grabbed at Mikleo’s hand, tugging and pulling him closer. Mikleo gasped in surprise, nearly stumbling at the force.

“Sorey...” started Mikleo.

Sorey hummed quietly, his hand letting go of Mikleo’s, now bravely reaching forward to touch just under Mikleo’s chin. Mikleo looked up at Sorey, his circlet glinting under the dim light, catching Sorey’s relaxed emerald eyes gazing down at him.

“Please keep writing,” mumbled Mikleo.

“I will,” said Sorey, his hand now creeping around to Mikleo’s back. His bold fingertips traced downward, resting at the small of his back and pulling him slightly forward. Mikleo accepted and leaned into the motion, swaying slightly under Sorey’s grasp. Sorey leaned down, noses almost touching. His breaths were humid and warm against Mikleo’s cheek as he stayed motionless, listening carefully to the Seraph’s own shuddered, caught breaths.

They hung there for what felt like an eternity before Sorey finally pitched upwards and pressed a chaste kiss to Mikleo’s forehead, nudging against his circlet.

“Good night, Mikleo,” whispered Sorey.

“Good night, Sorey.”

Sorey stepped back from the Seraph before leaving to his home, looking back to Mikleo no less than three times before finally closing the door behind him.

Mikleo looked to the stars before retiring to his own home, silently agreeing with Sorey’s observations. Whether they stayed in Elysia or explored the world, the same constellations and moon would hang in the sky, eternally familiar, following them wherever they went. As long as they were with each other, they could still find home.

The truth was a burden, a deep fear with the terrifying promise of freedom. He shook his head, pushing away the thought. He stepped into his own home, alone, closing the door quietly behind him.

He leaned against the closed door, blinking away tears before exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Sleep well, Sorey. My sun.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
